


U is for Utter

by coolbyrne



Series: The Alphabet Series [21]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Jack utters a name in her sleep. Gibbs has a vision. Slibbs
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Series: The Alphabet Series [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909126
Comments: 20
Kudos: 98





	U is for Utter

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I would have loved for Mike to have met Jack.

"Jethro."

The word was uttered through the thick hoodie she had confiscated earlier in the evening and the blanket he had carefully placed on top when she had fallen asleep. But he heard the word, clear as day. It was the first time she'd ever said it.

"That's a beautiful sound, isn't it?"

He jumped at the image at his side. "You don't think it's kinda creepy slinkin' around when someone's sleepin', Mike?"

The old, long deceased friend shrugged. "I'm like Santa Claus- when you're sleepin' and awake." He jerked his chin at Jack, still nestled in the couch, her feet pressed against Gibbs' thigh. "She's nice. But I bet a hell of a lot naughty, too.'

"Mike-"

The warning had the same effect as the question. "You think she's sayin' your name in her sleep because she's thinkin' about work?" When no reply to retort came, Franks narrowed his eyes. "Nope. Nuh-uh. You are _not_ tellin' me you're not sleeping with her."

"Thought you saw everything, Santa."

"Alright, first off, even if I could, I'm not snoopin' in your bedroom." A shudder ran through him. "Second, my granddaughter, bless her sweet sweet soul, is in high school now, and I got my hands full watching her. And that basketball player who's all googly eyes around her." They both shared a chuckle over the girl they loved. Then he got right back on it. "So what's wrong with her? She gay?"

Gibbs blinked once at the directness. "No."

"Then there's no problem." His eyebrow quirked at the next thought. "Something wrong with you? You know-" He gestured below his belt. Gibbs' sharp glare answered the question. "So, at risk of repeating myself, there's no problem." There was too much history between them for Franks to let any silence grow. And he was always too damn smart anyway. "Oh, shit. Probie's in love." He slapped Gibbs' shoulder. "I should've known by the way _you_ get all googly-eyed."

"Leave it alone, Mike." Had he not been so focused on getting the man to shut the hell up, he might've asked himself why he didn't deny it.

The older man nodded and hummed, as if he was actually contemplating the request- for about 3 seconds. "That what you're doin', Gibbs? Leavin' it alone? Yeah, okay, I can see that working. I mean, you got what? Fifteen years before you finally keel over? Twenty if you stop eatin' all that red meat." His wrinkled nose said all he needed to say about the option. "I can see why you'd want to live out the rest of your days alone instead of havin' that." His words went in Jack's direction.

He wasn't in the mood for the sarcasm. "Last thing she needs is to be saddled with a guy who can't make relationships work. God knows I've tried."

"Have you, though?" Franks asked. "I mean, tried. Or have you just jumped from one relationship to another, knowin' it was wrong but doin' it anyway?" Gibbs arched an eyebrow at the analysis. "What? When I'm not watchin' Amira or tryin' to steer you right, I got a lotta time on my hands."

"Maybe I'm finally catchin' on."

"What? That this one's just another in a long line of 'wrong'?" Mike's laugh was rich and true. "You must be tryin' to fool yourself because that shit ain't workin' with me. And I bet it wouldn't work with her, either. I bet she doesn't put up with much of your shit."

For only the second time since Mike appeared, Gibbs laughed. "No, she does not."

"Smart?"

"Yep."

"Sassy as all hell?" Gibbs nodded with a smile. "Strong?"

He looked at her, vulnerable in her sleep but still his touchstone of strength. "Strongest person I know."

Mike hummed again. "Strong enough to not get her heart broken when you can't figure out how to get your head out of your ass?"

The idea that he could be the thing that broke her stabbed a hot knife into his gut. It was that and the fact he was tired of Mike's needling that made him snap, "Why is it you only show up when things are shit, Mike?"

He returned the volley with a crushing forehand. "When's the last time things were good, Probie?" There was no mercy and no lie in the question, but his mentor and friend took some of the sharpness off with his final question. "She good?"

He was surprised by the film that formed over his gaze. She was so much more. And yet the one word said it all. "Yeah."

"Heard you got some kinda rule about that."

Gibbs rested his elbows on his knees. "Not that easy, Mike." When he got no reply, he looked over his shoulder only to find the vision gone. He leaned back against the couch again and let out a long exhale.

Jack stirred and mumbled in her half-sleep, "He can't hear you." Before Gibbs could dislodge the shock in his throat, she said, "The quarterback." Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she ran a hand through her hair and squinted at the TV. "I heard you talking to someone. I assumed it was the quarterback not listening to you again."

His eyes followed hers to the football game he had forgotten was on. Using the moment to divert away from his deeper thoughts, he said, "S'why they're losin'."

She laughed but caught something in his expression. Gently laying her hand on his knee, she asked, "You okay?"

Such a simple question that invited a complicated answer. Instead of going down that road, he said, "You were talkin' in your sleep. _You_ okay?" A frown creased her forehead as she no doubt was trying to recall her dream. Sabotaging his own detour, he helped her along by saying, "You said my name."

The prompt was enough to give her a clue, and paint a pink swatch across her cheeks. "Oh right," she said with an assurity that fooled no one. "Dreaming about work again."

It made him think about what Mike had said, and he grinned. Then he thought about the rest of what the man had said, and had a few choice words for himself.

_You're not gettin' any younger, Marine._

Shifting to face her and resting his arm on the back of the couch, he tried to inject as much casualness into his voice as he could when he said, "You never call me that at work."

If she hadn't been sure of the name she had used in her sleep, his comment cemented it, and she tried to shrug it off. "Do you want me to call you 'Jethro' at work?"

The stiltedness in the two syllables made him frown. "Not if you say it like _that_." She laughed and squeezed his thigh, sending fire to his gut.

"Sorry, it's just- new. I'll work on it, I promise. Jethro."

It was better, and he tilted his head back and forth in moderate approval.

"Jethro."

She was getting the hang of it now, though he wondered if she realized the effect it was having. It didn't help -or hurt- that her damn hand on his leg that had turned a squeeze into a caress.

Hearing the name, she gave herself a pat on the back with a proud nod. "Jethro."

The tone had dropped slightly, becoming more like her sleep utterance, and they both heard it. His hand lifted from the couch to push back her tousled hair and he felt her hand tug at his sweatpants. His lips were a whisper away from hers when he heard her say it one more time.

"Jethro."

He captured the name from her lips, taking it from her tongue with his. The word tasted sweet and warm whispered against his mouth, and it was wrapped in a newness that somehow still felt awfully familiar, like she'd been saying it for years. Or maybe he'd been dreaming of it himself. She switched hands, replacing her left with her right so she could turn into him, giving his left hand an opportunity to curl around her waist and pull her closer. Her hand clutched and flattened the pant leg, seeping her warmth through the cotton fleece and burning heat into his skin. If she moved any higher, she was going to find out he wasn't lying to Mike about everything being in working order. 

She must have had a good idea anyway, because she pulled back ever so slightly from his lips and whispered, "I can't wait to see what I get when I start calling you 'Leroy'."

…..

-end.


End file.
